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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26251210">Lightning Fields</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyofstardvst/pseuds/ladyofstardvst'>ladyofstardvst</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blood and Injury, Swearing, as a vigilate's s/o, its exactly what you think, just something a usual night in gotham</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 03:00:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>810</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26251210</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyofstardvst/pseuds/ladyofstardvst</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A soft-ish moment post patrol between you and Jaybird.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jason Todd/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>71</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Lightning Fields</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>titans s2, many issues of red hood + the outlaws later and here i am. trading marvel vigilantes for dc vigilantes. this is really where im at during this whole pandemic thing, huh. i dont go here usually so be gentle pls</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Gotham City was abandoned by the gods.</p>
<p>City streets were paved by bone. Skyscrapers reached for the clouds, the moon, the sun; a meadow of cold, crude knives that glinted bulletproof glass and reinforced steel. Sometimes, they reflected the sunset of a city that lived in a deep haze of contentment, the thought of hope somewhere in the distant future. Sometimes, they mirrored the sunrise of vermilion clouds that had cried blood under the moonlight, or a hailstorm made of body parts carelessly scattered in the streets like flower petals stolen by the wind.</p>
<p>But your favorite days . . . those were the calm ones before a storm. There always seemed to be a few minutes, weeks, months – when you were <em>lucky</em> – when things were less apocalyptic than usual, when ignorance was bliss before you realized that <em>something was coming</em>, and it would shake the skyline made of blades to their foundations. When the sky would blossom the colors of fire in the witching hour and bring the heat of the Underworld with it.</p>
<p>It was easy to forget your city was forged from fear and war and greed when the dream of <em>quiet</em> became reality in those stolen pockets of time. But ever since Jason Todd came into your life? It was hard to remember what that calm – that <em>lie</em> – felt like.</p>
<p>
  <em>Memories, oh how they cut like knives.</em>
</p>
<p>Just like the torturous rain raging against the night – <em>real</em> rain, so far – that cut through the city like ice. It rode waves of wind that howled as if it were a living thing, as if it were <em>something</em> that raged and thrashed and begged to be uncaged. To be free.</p>
<p>The whistling eased itself through the windows of your apartment, streaked with raindrops cascading down the glass. The damp blurred the flickering, half-dead neon lights of a nightlife still trying to be lively. Washed out blues and faded golds illuminated a familiar silhouette moving up the fire escape with ease. Uneven, but unfaltering all the same.</p>
<p>You unlocked the window and gave Red Hood a steady arm to prevent his face becoming acquainted with the hardwood again.</p>
<p>“Jesus <em>Christ</em>.”</p>
<p>“Not even close, beautiful,” Jason said, limping to place his helmet on a nearby table. Rainwater slid off his tactical gear onto the floor. “Just me.” His lips quirked into a smirk, twisted into a grimace after running a gloved hand through tousled helmet hair. When he pulled it away, his white streaks shone pink in the lamplight.</p>
<p>A quiet laugh, a quick once over, and you’d gone to retrieve the first aid kit you’d learned to keep close, keep stocked, keep near the liquor.</p>
<p>You always wondered if you should be more worried than you were, about Jason going out as Red Hood. Once the wave of expected emotions passed when you first found out . . . you just accepted this as part of him. Jason Todd, secret romantic, Red Hood, resident smartass.</p>
<p>“Where does it hurt, Jay?”</p>
<p>He winced once the last of his suit hit the tile of your kitchen floor, a muted <em>thud</em> over the pouring rain. “Everywhere.”</p>
<p>“Occupational hazard, right?” you asked with a rare smirk and a twinkle in your eye. Your voice had changed – gone a little soft, a little pang threaded through your words. You placed the first aid kit on the kitchen counter, began sifting through it. A flash of lighting lit up the room, the fresh slash in his thigh glowing brilliant, crimson, still bleeding. He followed your line of sight when you asked, “Is that the worst of it?”</p>
<p><em>I</em><em>’ve had worse,</em> he said. Gracefully hauled himself onto the counter next to you, hissed curses through his teeth. The light from the stove-top gave you adequate light to work – you always hit the switch once dusk settled in, left it on for him until morning. His collection of scars was about to welcome a new addition. “<em>Fuck </em><span>this</span><em>.</em>”</p>
<p>He had a thing about kissing you, gentle and sweet when the last of the blood met the drain, when the bloody waste made a new home in the trash. Maybe it was a comfort thing, maybe it was a reassurance thing, but either way you never objected. Your heart always sang when he pulled you close to quote Shakespeare against your lips, blue eyes wide and clouded with all the things he never used to have.</p>
<p>You always remembered Gotham was forged in blood and fear and greed with Jason in your life, but he never failed to remind you why you stayed in a city crafted from scarred hands and demons wearing human skins. He always had to look away when you told him of the hope he handed you for a future that didn’t royally fucking suck.</p>
<p>Maybe the gods hadn’t left after all. Maybe they just whispered instead of screamed.</p>
<p> </p>
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